


Remedy

by StarlightHawke



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Therapy, working through issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:30:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightHawke/pseuds/StarlightHawke
Summary: My piece for ~Shooting Star~ Zine.Yoosung's journey through learning to cope with his loss of Rika, and how it affects him.





	Remedy

An earthquake couldn’t tear apart the earth as effectively as watching her leave decimates his heart. Yoosung watches Rika’s blonde hair dance in the wind as she’s escorted away, disappearing behind a set of beat-up, beige double doors without so much as a glance back.

Not that he’d expected one. That empty look in her eyes haunts him, a harsh reminder that the cousin he’d once known no longer exists. Despite that, he wants to run after her, to cry out to her that he can’t do this, he can’t lose her again. The gentle hand upon his shoulder is the sole thing that keeps him still, fists clenched and held stiffly by his side as he fights the tears burning in his eyes.

This isn’t what he wanted.

But.

Regardless of Yoosung’s desires, professional treatment will help Rika far more than he ever could. Than he ever stood a chance to. The knowledge that she’s getting the help she needs does little to assuage the bitterness swelling up in him because she’s gone, _again._ Sure, this time he got to say goodbye and give her a hug but it still stings.

“Hey.” Whisper soft, the single word draws his attention. Mouth pulled into a tight line, he wipes his eyes on the sleeve of his blue jacket and glances up at the man standing next to him. Zen’s hair is pulled back into a loose ponytail as usual, and honestly it pisses Yoosung off that he can look so flawless while those red eyes are brimming with sadness. “Do you wanna get ice cream or something?”

“I’m not a little kid, Zen,” he snaps, regretting the words as soon as they form in the air between them. They hang there, jagged, unable to be taken back. Another mistake. With a shake of his head, he shoves his hands into his pockets and turns around, ready to leave the mental hospital far, far behind. “I’m just gonna go home.”

Zen doesn’t stop him. He wishes he did.

 

-oOo-

 

“Kim, Yoosung.”

The sound of his name barely registers among the static in his brain and when he lifts his head to see the professor beckoning him, he can only sigh. _Ugh_. Another day, another lecture about dwindling grades in class. He tries, he really does, but he swears his mind has been falling apart bit by bit, leaving nothing but cobwebs and ruins in its place. Studying used to be second nature to him, as natural as walking or breathing. Now he has to read the same paragraph over and over only for none of it to sink in. Lectures about topics that once interested him now feel dry as a desert, his thoughts skittering about helplessly without a path to follow.

The professor looks at him with sad eyes, lips moving but even now he can’t bring himself to pay attention. A sheet of paper sits on her desk and he spots his messy handwriting on next to the grade; ah. So he failed his most recent test. Again. What a surprise.

When she finishes speaking he gives her an empty smile and takes it, nodding at her suggestions for study groups. He won’t go. They won’t help.

Nothing ever does.

And when she lets him leave, he tosses the paper into the first bin he sees. No use keeping something that will only remind him of how far he’s fallen.

 

-oOo-

 

The man across from Yoosung watches him, expressionless. It matches everything else in the office; bland walls, boring decorations. Even the couch is unremarkable. Maybe that’s the idea, keeping things as plain as possible so people don’t feel threatened while sharing their deepest, darkest secrets.

It’s easy to speak to this guy, blank expression or not. That’s partly because of Yoosung’s tendency to ramble when nervous, which is a blessing when being forced to see a therapist. Little stays hidden, spilling out between stuttered “uh”s and “um”s as he plays with a loose thread on his chinos.

“Have you ever heard of depression, Yoosung?”

Of course he has. Everyone has. What does that have to do with him?

Everything, apparently.

Seeing the blank-man becomes a part of his routine during the summer by his parent’s insistence. Once a week, every week, until he’s able to work past his trauma. _If_ he’s able to work past it.

Yoosung isn’t sure he can learn to be happy again.

 

-oOo-

 

Medicine helps. Exercise helps. Therapy helps. Life becomes brighter again, dull greys replaced by vibrant reds and greens and blues. Some deep part of Yoosung knew depression fit for what he was dealing with but seeking help for it had always been too much of a hassle.

It’s amazing how much different he feels now. While the emptiness and numbness haven’t been entirely negated, they’ve decreased to the point they don’t affect him regularly. He can smile again, _breathe_ again, focus again. Between the medicine helping him regulate his moods and attention and the therapy helping him come to terms with Rika, he’s beginning to feel like a bonafide human once more.

To function without having to fight against himself is a liberty, a gift, something he’d once taken for granted. It was never a secret that mental illness and grief could rip down the sturdy frame of someone’s life like a tsunami; a wave of hopelessness and despair crashing into his sanity, chipping away at it dangerously until receding to leave only the barest of bones behind. But to hear about it is nothing like experiencing it, and he’d allowed himself to lie in the wreckage of himself, wallowing, for far too long. Then the lifelines provided by his therapist had arrived, manifesting themselves as different people reaching out to help him first escape, then rebuild.

How can one person make such a difference in his life? This doctor isn’t a friend of his, or a family member. Just some random, blank-faced guy that his parents insisted he see. And yet…

And yet.

Without him, Yoosung would still be there.

If only Rika had someone support her like that.

Despite his best efforts, the words in his Animal Nutrition Science book swim in his vision. He’s acing his classes, true, but he can’t find the will to be excited about it. Where’s the passion he once had about his chosen field? So many aspects of his old self returned to him, but the pure joy he used to feel when imagining saving a puppy, kitten, horse, or even an elderly goat is missing. Sure, the concept of helping those in need is still appealing, but it doesn’t ring true to his heart anymore. With a sigh, he closes the textbook and rolls to lie on his back, mattress soft beneath him as he gazes up at a ceiling covered with glow-in-the-dark stars.

His thoughts drift to his friends; Saeyoung, the epitome of depression and his twin, Saeran, who has… other issues. Neither speak about it, and Yoosung isn’t certain what haunts the younger twin, but he knows it is a nasty mix of illnesses. There isn’t much he can do to help them - any offers turned down promptly, stupid pride - and it’s not like he’s equipped for much more than delivering food and company. If only he knew ways to help them without being intrusive, little tips he could mention in passing that might take hold. Honestly, he’d love to be able to help all of his friends, his family, and even strangers on the street. To help guide those who are lost like he was, extending a lifeline to lead them to the rocky shores of recovery…

But how? How does one travel down that path?

What even _is_ that path?

The corner of his mouth crinkles as he considers what he knows about himself: he’s loyal, kind, a bleeding heart of sorts. Smart, devoted, and he’s always felt a tug to help others in some way. He thought he’d finally found his calling with veterinary medicine, but the quiet whispers of his soul say otherwise. It speaks to him with ghostly insistence, always a little niggle in the corner of his mind, telling him that _yes, he should help others but no, that isn’t the way._

So… not a vet, then. Who else helps people? In the literal sense, any job can. Even the teens at the local cinema could claim they help people find joy and relaxation. But that isn’t what he’s looking for, not really. A doctor helps, but that doesn’t feel… _personal_ enough. Most physicians sweep into the room, ask a few questions and order some tests, then leave just as abruptly.

He’d provide more help as a nurse, in that sense.

Police officer? Lawyer? Dentist? Too dangerous, too distant, too dreaded. One by one, he ticks off the different careers that cross his mind as being ‘helpful.’ Physical therapist? Psychiatrist? Dietitian? No, no, no. _If none of these are what I’m meant for, then how can I find-_

 _I could be a therapist._ The thought hits him with such power he makes a surprised noise, shooting up in a sitting position and surveying the surrounding area with wide eyes. Him, a therapist? Is he… does he possess the personality for it? The will? The logic and emotion and skill and and and…

Picturing himself in the place of his own therapist, he’s dumbfounded to find a smile creeping across his face. He could help people, and in a way that matters. There’s not enough mental health care in Korea anyway. Maybe he can help change that?

But if experience has taught him anything, it’s that he shouldn’t rush into a big decision such as changing his major without taking plenty of time to consider it. Finishing out this semester should be his priority, using any spare time to research and contemplate if this is the correct decision for him. He doesn’t want to end up on a career path he won’t be happy in again.

 

-oOo-

 

The creak of the rolling office chair breaks the unusual silence in the room, loud and a little unsettling. Yoosung fidgets in his seat, eyes trained on the dark wash of his jeans as he struggles not to blurt out the one thing on his mind. It’s been about three weeks since he started considering becoming a therapist, and time has only strengthened that desire. He still hasn’t spoken to anyone about it yet.

Purposefully.

Bringing up a change of his major to his parents frightens him because he can’t predict what their reactions will be. Will they encourage him - unlike with veterinary science - or will it disappoint them that he’ll be in school even longer to catch up with the classes he needs? Will they scoff and tell him he should rethink this? No, he can’t broach the subject until he’s _positive_ it’s what he wants.

Between midterms and homework, he hasn’t had the time to approach one of his friends about it yet. He’s absolutely _dying_ to speak about it with someone, and who would know better if it’s viable than his own therapist?

“What’s wrong, Yoosung? You seem a little on edge today.” Concern replaces the usual blank expression, his voice kind as Yoosung peeks up at him only to look away again. “Did something happen? Remember, this is a safe place.”

“Yeah, I know, I just, ah.” His fingers feel a little stiff, so he stretches them out before gripping the front of his jeans. “I’m not sure I want to continue in the veterinary science field? I don’t really… have the interest in it any more, but, um, that’s, that’s such a big decision to make and I don’t know how anyone will take the news…”   

“Don’t worry about what others would say right now. What is it _you_ want?”

Yoosung’s grip tightens, knuckles beginning to turn white. “I want to… I want to change majors.” There’s more confidence in his voice than he expected. Good. He tips his head up and meets the therapist’s eyes. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

The therapist sits back in his chair, nodding slowly. “Then change. You’ve worked hard to get to this point, there’s no use in continuing in anything that will just set you back. Do you have any idea what you’d like to switch to?”

Here it is. The big reveal. The click of his throat resounds in his ears when he swallows, mouth dry. “Uh, yeah. I think…” A pregnant pause ensues as he gathers up the courage to continue. “I think I want to go into mental health. Maybe be a counselor, like…” Oh, no! Sudden courage debuff. Current stat: -24.

Another loud swallow. “Like… you.”

Silence. Yoosung winces at the lack of immediate response, his anxiety spiking. Maybe this was a mistake, maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut, now he’ll be told this is stupid and dumb and he doesn’t have what it takes and-

“I think that would suit you very well.”

Yoosung’s head whips up and he stares owlishly, lips parted. The therapist chuckles, and for the first time, a genuine smile crosses his face.

“You look surprised. You have a lot of potential for the field as long as you learn to separate your work life from your home life. A lot of therapists experience burnout by taking their work home with them.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can do that.” The affirmation of his idea sends excitement rushing through his veins. His confidence meter feels overfilled, like he was just hit with a massive buff.

Next step: talk about it with someone important in his life.

 

-oOo-

 

Not a week later, Yoosung finds himself standing in front of a familiar bunker clutching a cooler filled with the makings of a meal. It’s heavy and he’s more than ready to put it down as he glares into the security camera, wondering how many more times he can handle Saeyoung teasing him before he throws a rock at the stupid lens.

“Saeyoung, _please_ , just let me in.”

“Ah, ah, ah! Say the magic phrase and I’ll let you!”

Groaning, he shifts the majority of the weight from one hand to the other. “Look, this is really heavy but if you don’t want me to make you dinner, I guess I’ll g-” The loud click of the door interrupts him and he rolls his eyes, reaching out to tug it open. “Guess the magic phrase was me threatening no food,” he grumbles under his breath, stepping into the much dimmer light of the building. The door swings shut behind him and then there’s a grinning face in his, hands insistently taking the cooler.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding. What did you do, pack in a few whole animals?” Yoosung does his best not to envy the way Seven lifts it easier than him as he turns to lead the way into the kitchen. A full second doesn’t even pass once it’s thunked onto the counter before Seven’s opening it and peering inside, eyebrows shooting up to hide behind curly red hair. “Yoosung…” Laughing under his breath, he shakes his head and turns to face him. “Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate when you make us meals but we’re not starving, you know? There isn’t really a need to make… this much food…”

“I know! I just, it’s that, I’m so…” No, this isn’t working right. Yoosung covers his face with a hand and takes in a stuttered breath, trying to reorganize his scattered thoughts into something more coherent. Nerves bubble in his belly when he peeks from between his fingers, making eye contact with Seven. “I have something important to talk about and you know how I get nervous and cooking helps me relax so.” Ending the sentence with an overly exaggerated gesture at the cooler, he laughs awkwardly. 

Instead of the teasing he expects to happen, Seven taps a finger to his chin before nodding decisively. “Alright then. Let’s start cooking, and you can just spill whenever you’re ready.” Glass jars are place lightly on the counter as he begins to empty the cooler, various vegetables, fruit and fish following suit. “You know I’m not a master chef like you, Yoosungie, so just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

To say he’s shocked would be an understatement, seconds passing as he just blinks at Seven’s back. It takes Seven throwing him a wink over his shoulder along with one of his obnoxiously flirty lines - “hey babe, like what you see?” - to snap him out of it and step up to the counter himself. 

For a while they prepare the food in silence - Yoosung double-checking the fish for bones, Seven chopping and dicing as instructed - and slowly, each dish is arranged. The first one is slid into the oven before Yoosung exhales and leans back against the counter, eyes following the movement of Seven’s knife cutting cabbage into strips for the kimchi. What is he so scared about? There’s absolutely no reason to fear what Seven has to say. Sure, sometimes he’s a bit of a jerk but he’s always been supportive when Yoosung needs it. Honestly, what’s the worst that he’ll do, say that it’s a dumb idea? That Yoosung isn’t cut out for it? 

“I’ve…” No, that’s no good. The word escapes him as a squeak, so he clears his throat and tries once more. “I’ve been considering, uh, changing my major. In school.”

Seven’s eyes don’t stray from the cabbage. “Oh?” 

“Yeah.” His fingers drum anxiously against the countertop.  _ Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tap. _ “To psychology. I’d like to become, a uh, psychiatrist?”

The cabbage is pushed to the side, a radish taking its place. Yoosung watches anxiously as Seven peels it without responding, every moment left in silence jacking his heartrate up further. Being held in a purgatory like this, waiting for his best friend and confidante’s opinion, is torture. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything after all, it probably is a stupid idea anyway, his therapist was wrong, and he should j-

“I like that idea.”

Startled out of his thoughts, Yoosung cocks his head in surprise. “Huh?”

The knife takes its place next to the radish on the cutting board, Seven turning to face Yoosung with a serious expression lining his face. “I think it suits you. You’ve always been about helping everyone else around you through their tough spots. Doing that as a profession? One shot K.O.” A smile spreads over his lips and he nods, pushing his glasses up his nose with the back of his hand. “Plus, free advice for how to not be a hot mess? Sign me up.”

Ah, there’s the teasing he was expecting. With a huff of air, Yoosung reaches over and gently shoves a cackling Seven. “Yeah, sure, just like you said you were gonna dress as a cat and come to me to be treated, right?” 

“Only the best doctor for me~” Seven purrs, batting his eyelashes and blowing Yoosung a kiss. A moment of laughter ensues before he resumes his work, carefully slicing through the radish. “Got any other exciting news for me?”

He doesn’t say it aloud, but a thought flirts through his mind at the question: _Yeah. I’m finally happy to be me again._

 

-oOo-

 

_Two years later_

 

The cafe is full, college students packed into every corner, sipping coffee and cramming for their finals. Yoosung is no exception, sitting with a group of friends, quizzing each other and laughing at the ridiculous mnemonics they employ to help remember the content. It’s been a wild ride, changing majors, but one he’s undertaken with utter joy.

There’s never a moment that passes in which he doubts his decision.

“I need a refill,” he interjects, stretching out lanky limbs before standing and grabbing his cup. “I’ll be right back.”

 _Buzz!_ Yoosung glances down at his phone, checking to see what the notification says.Ah. Just tripter. The last picture he’d posted - one of him and his friends studying only moments ago - was liked by both Zen and Jaehee, and Saeyoung left a cheering emoji. They don’t know it, but he uses the term ‘studying’ loosely since at that point they were all goofing off and procrastinating, but it still counts as long as they get _some_ work in, right?

“Ahh!”

A body collides against him, halting his forward movement suddenly. His phone clatters to the floor in surprise and he glances up to find a beautiful girl stumbling back from him unsteadily. He reaches out to grab her arm, keeping her from joining his phone and her drink on the ground, brown eyes wide and arms pinwheeling.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry!” Once she regains her balance he lets go, face burning with embarrassment. “I wasn’t watching where I was going. Are you okay?”

She nods, tucking long, red hair behind her ear and looking at the floor shyly. Oh, that’s cute, _she’s_ cute. Heart skipping a beat, he smiles warmly and gestures to the counter. “Can I buy you a drink to make up for it?”

A beat passes, then she nods. His smile stretches wider. “Okay! Order anything you want. I’m Yoosung, by the way. Nice to meet you! Although, hah, would’ve been better if I hadn’t ran into you...” he admits, scratching the back of his neck.

Eyes flick up to meet his his gaze, the ghost of a grin nearly making him keel over. “It’s okay. I’m MC. Nice to meet you too, Yoosung.”


End file.
